Good Old days

              Bicycle days!

I don't think it's lame to write about a cycle. Even before writing this in my journal my brother asked me "Are you really writing about a cycle?".Why not? I loved those days like every kid , but I never knew epiphanies hurt so badly and it does worse when the changed one is 'me’. Okay, let’s start from 7 years before...

Like every kid (especially 90's kids), I was very much exited about owning a cycle. Though I didn't know how to ride( 'wishes always doesn't need reasons' ),I wondered "what are the thing impossible for a cycle less kid" and I was literally blown out by millions of answers. So obviously i started being so stubborn and perpetually asked for a cycle to my parents. According to the survey taken by the local-9-year-old-survey (LNYOS) I found out that there were only a dozen of kids who owned cycles. I was always sunk in the reveries like how fast I could move with cycles, honking all the way through the street (whoa!). I was just a lucky fellow back then; I got my cousin's brand new BSA champ bicycle when she shifted to Australia!!!

I unpacked the cycle and stared at it for a few minutes and then i collected my lower jaw from the floor. It was one of those moments when you climbed the Mount Everest and taking photographs for the media. But then came the real problem, I don't know how to ride it. I felt like dog that got a raw coconut (but a brand new fantastic coconut). Then I started practicing on our gravel filled courtyard. My cycle had a cool seat filled with cartoon images. I contributed a few more stickers that I got free with children's magazine. I fell down infinite times but you know this-means-war! I was really in grief when I saw scratches on that shiny metallic sky blue surface and not on my knees and elbows. The biggest accident was when I fell down on the pit where we planted the palm. Obviously, My-cat-woman-mom rescued me.

Finally my hard work was worth. I started riding the cycle through the smooth roads. I still remember when i whooed in the joy of learning to ride cycle my teachers who were returning from school stared at me like 'If she rides like this we are going to get a leave tomorrow’. I didn't care, because i was in the third world where only we both existed.

After some years like 2 and a half, the new lady bird cycles were released. Most of the girls wanted one. I also felt an irresistible urge in me to get one. I started seeing reveries and compared it with my BSA champ. Bigger tires, cool handles,.....blah-blah.On a rainy day my dad presented me the new lady bird which was cool brown colored with a bridge like progression on the center. I was a 13 year old that time.

Then after a couple of years more my aunt bought a wonderful scooty.I learned to drive it so swiftly and felt cozy riding it than a cycle. Then I started madly driving it as a replacement to the cycle. Gradually the lady bird moved to the roof top with my BSA champ. Then my little cousin sister took those cycle to her home while I sat without waving a final good-bye. Now I can understand how it felt. I don't regret giving it to her (she is my only sweet little sis), but I'm extremely sad. Currently, I'm at a situation in which I doesn't have either cycle or scooty and for the cherry on the top my brother bought a new cycle and he doesn't allow me to ride it or even touch it (just because he love it too much).I don't deserve to care it anymore...

'People changes, but memories not'..But I hate it when I changes revocably...